Book 1, Night Slayer series
Warner BooksWarner Forever
Vampire Romance
September 2005
ISBN 0446616265
ISBN13 978-0446616263
Order OUT OF THE NIGHT
Lanie Weber isn't afraid of danger. As a volunteer firefighter, this seemingly mild-mannered librarian has faced life-or-death situations before--and survived. But she has no idea what's waiting for her in the dark Amazon jungles...in the staring eyes of a mysterious statue...and in the strong arms of a seductive stranger. Veteran pilot Mac Knight has vowed to help Lanie find out what has happened to her scientist father. But at Dr. Weber's secret research lab, they find only five dead bodies--and a creature believed to live solely in legends. The nightmare, however, is real. When Mac is attacked and bitten, Lanie fights to keep him alive. When he presses his lips to her throat, she yields to his touch. And when his teeth graze her flesh, she hungers for more...
AWARDS
REVIEWS
♥♥♥♥½ TOP PICK! "Rising star Popp gives vampire mythology her own spin by incorporating the legend of El Chupacabra. She does a stellar job combining intriguing characterization with gritty suspense, adding up to a major thrill ride!" - Jill M. Smith, Romantice Times BOOKreviews
4 cups! "I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys stories of the paranormal." - Susan White, Coffee Time Romance
4 Angles! "The introduction of the El Chupacabra gives the vampire story a unique twist." - Susan T., Fallen Angel Reviews
<"The story is mesmerizing, rapid action that keeps you turning page after page. As with her first book, the characters are vivid, the action strong. Just one great vamp read." - DeborahAnne MacGillivray, The Best Reviews
"Out of the Night is a sexier and all-together more satisfying read because of the author's slick control of the plot and its snapping, crackling and popping pace. In fact, this splendidly unnerving paranormal romance is an attention-grabber all around!” - Cheryl Jeffries, HEARTSTRINGS
>“Whew – [OUT OF THE NIGHT] was one very quick read as it was not a book one could start without finishing in one sitting. The lead couple was well defined, extremely genuine and likeable. Along with the thrills, chills, twists and turns of the suspense plot the underlying sensualness gave it an even more satisfying and lasting flavor. The reader will find this story to be a well-written, totally engrossing, and feature a very satisfying romance that brings to light some new twists on the vampire stories. I highly recommend all you Paranormal junkies to get out there and get yourselves introduced to this new kid in town!” — Marilyn, PARANORMAL ROMANCE WRITERS
“Popp puts a refreshing spin on her vampire story by utilizing a legend that has been reported in various media over the last few years - apparent sightings of el chupacapra - shadowy creatures common to the southern hemisphere that suck blood from livestock. In addition, while they are responsible for changing humans, Popp doesn't portray her chupas as evil. Rather, they are creatures that prefer to keep to themselves but are captured and exploited by humans. This twist, along with a cast of likeable characters who are in turn balanced by a few blood-thirsty human villains, makes Out of the Night a well-written, fast-paced, and very engaging first book of what looks to become an intriguing and fresh new series.” — bookloons.com
“OUT OF THE NIGHT by Robin T. Popp is a spine-tingling, fast paced paranormal romance. The story is a unique twist on a favorite theme featuring vampires and Lanie and Mac are excellent lead characters that bring real depth and perspective to the book. I liked this book because it was not predictable, there was always new information being given to add more layers to what Lanie and Mac were facing. This is the first book in a series by Ms. Popp and it is an excellent introduction and I can’t wait for the next book.” — Char, ROMANCE JUNKIES
“Eerie! Filled with danger and passion! Robin T. Popp has crafted an amazing tale in which she places her protagonists at extreme risk, as they try to stop an evil man’s drive to power." — Lucele Coutts, NOVELTALK
EXCERPT
Great tongues of fire leapt from the structure, more brilliant against the night sky than any fireworks display; beautiful, mesmerizing - and deadly. Lanie Weber stood close, feeling the heat beat at her, her skin burning despite the protection of her gear.
“Lanie’s crew takes left; Marcus – center. We’ll take right. Let’s go.” The fire chief’s muted voice carried to her over the roaring of the flames and she nodded to let him know she’d heard.
With the fire hose cradled along her right arm, Lanie gripped the nozzle securely with both hands. Her second lineman braced her with his elbow, offering resistance against the pressure of the water, which tried to propel her backwards as soon as the water started to flow.
Lanie adjusted the stream until a focused, narrow torrent shot forth. She concentrated on the left side of the structure, her only goal to contain the flames and protect the exposure of the house next door because it was too late to save the one-story home. At least no one had been hurt.
Though she couldn’t hear anything beyond the noise of the fire, Lanie was aware of the family’s devastation. In their minds, they had lost everything, but Lanie knew what real loss was. Houses, clothes, possessions – those things could be replaced. The loss of a loved one...
Shying away from the thought, she turned her full attention back to fighting the blaze. After ten years as a volunteer firefighter, the heat of the flames, the acrid smell of smoke, the camaraderie of the other volunteers, even the mechanics of putting out the fire – these things were familiar to her. Tonight, of all nights, she needed the comfort of familiarity about her.
Hours later, Lanie shut off the water for the last time and eased the hose to the ground. Leaving it to the rookies, she walked to her truck, the evening’s adrenaline rush long since spent. It had been a long mop-up and the sun was already climbing high in the sky. Removing her helmet, she tossed it into the back, then opened her jacket and welcomed the cool breeze against her hot, sweaty body.
“Don’t you have a flight to catch?” The chief came to stand next to her, angling his raised arm to show her the time on his watch.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Her tone sounded as weary as she felt. She briefly considered canceling, but arrangements were already made.
“Thanks for coming,” he added. “It would have been a lot tougher without you here.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t feel like sitting at home last night anyway and three calls in a row kept me from dwelling on other things, you know?”
He nodded, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gave her a fatherly hug and then walked off, leaving her to climb into her truck and drive off to face her future – alone.
Truly alone, because her father was dead.
She knew the pain of his loss would hit sooner or later, but right now, she felt numb. It was like standing on the precipice of a great bottomless chasm while the wind beat at her, pushing her until, eventually, she knew she would fall. But not yet. There was too much to do.
Arriving home, she saw the light blinking on her answering machine. Playing the message, she heard her employer’s sympathetic voice urging her to take as much time off as she needed. Grateful, she showered and changed into fresh clothes, then saw that it was well after noon. She’d been too depressed last night to eat dinner and too busy fighting fires all morning for breakfast. Now there was no time for lunch.
Grabbing her duffel bag, she set the security alarm on her house and climbed back into her truck, navigating the Houston traffic until she was on the freeway headed out of town. She tried to focus on the road, but her thoughts pulled her back to a faded, but never forgotten, memory.
She was twelve years old and her father had left her in the cold, sterile waiting room of the city morgue while he went in, alone, to identify her mother’s body. He’d not wanted Lanie to carry the image of her mother’s battered body with her for the rest of her life, wanting her, instead, to remember her mother as she’d last seen her – energetic, happy and full of love and vitality.
Lanie had remembered her that way. So much so that for years, she’d suffered from the belief that her mother’s death was all a huge mistake; that her father had identified the wrong body and any day now, her mother would return - because a woman so full of life would never have surrendered to death.
Now, sixteen years later, she was having to accept a loved one’s death again. This time would be different, she vowed. This time, there would be closure. Yesterday afternoon, when she’d gotten the phone call from Admiral Charles Winslow about her father’s accident, she’d been insistent. If her father was dead, then she wanted to see the body and she didn’t care how difficult or impossible it was to arrange. If her father’s body couldn’t be flown back into the United States, then she would go to South America.
Fortunately, the admiral had understood. A friend of the family for years, “Uncle” Charles was the one who’d talked her father into accepting the top-secret research position earlier that year. He was also the one to suggest the private charter company that would fly her to the town of Taribu, in the northern part of the Amazon, making the arrangements himself.
Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Lanie concentrated on driving. Three hours later, she steered her truck onto a narrow side road and drove for several minutes before spotting the gate with the large Anytime - Dey or Knight Private Charters sign across the top. Pulling across the dirt lot, she parked in front of the simple plain white building that seemed so out of place in the middle of the endless open stretch of land. Behind it were two smaller buildings.
Getting out, Lanie was struck by the absolute silence. She found herself questioning the wisdom of driving out here alone, much less traveling alone to South America.
Trying to discount her sense of foreboding as nothing more than extreme fatigue and an acknowledged fear of flying, she took a deep breath and headed inside the building.
“Hi.” A young woman, almost wearing a low-cut tank top and tight blue-jean shorts, greeted her with a hundred-watt smile and eyes as warm as spiced ginger. “You must be Ms. Weber.”
Lanie tried to return her smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “That’s me.”
“We spoke yesterday. I’m Sandra.” She walked behind a counter and picked up a thin stack of papers which she quickly leafed through. “Everything seems to be in order. I’ve got you flying to Taribu today with a return trip day after tomorrow – is that correct?”
Lanie walked closer so she wouldn’t feel like she was yelling across the room. “That’s right. Did you have any problems getting the authorization from Admiral Winslow?”
“No, you’re all set.” She picked up a two-way radio and spoke into it. “Mac, your charter is here.” There was a crackling of some response a moment later that made Sandra smile. Then she turned her attention back to Lanie. “Mac’ll be here in a second. Can I get you something while you wait? No? Okay, if you change your mind, just holler. I’ll be in back.” She gestured to the door behind her, replaced the stack of papers on the counter with a smile and then disappeared through the door.
Lanie wandered to the far wall where she took a seat in one of the chairs. The clock above her showed that she had less than an hour before her scheduled departure and conflicting emotions warred inside her: grief, depression, anxiety. She glanced out the side window, hoping to distract herself and spotted a single, white jet. Compared to the commercial planes she was used to, it was a toy – surely incapable of the long flight to Taribu. Wherever the hell that was. Her ignorance slammed into her like a fist. She should have shown more interest in her father’s work. Maybe if she had...
No, he still would have gone and in her heart, she knew he’d understood. How many years had he dragged her all over the place in pursuit of his studies? The remote, wilderness areas of Florida, the mountain regions of Washington, the desert plains of southwest Texas – even the impoverished farmlands of Puerto Rico.
She’d helped him research and catalogue his findings to the extent that becoming a librarian seemed a natural choice of careers for her when the time came. She’d also liked the stability of staying in one place while attending college. Later, having settled in with the local fire department and taken a job with the university library, her days of traveling with her father stopped for good. She’d wanted her own life.
The creaking of a screen door being opened, followed immediately by the sound of it slamming shut, broke into her recriminations. She looked up to see a man walking toward her; tall and muscular, with broad shoulders. His features were dark and he moved with the ease of a large jungle cat stalking its prey. Only the slight limp kept him from appearing totally predatory. As he drew closer, Lanie saw that his hair was cut short with a slight bronzing at the tips, probably from the same sun that had tanned his skin to a rich healthy glow. His gray-blue eyes seemed to miss no detail as they quickly came to rest on her.
“Ms. Weber?” His deep voice washed over her, sending chills racing down her spine and making her suddenly very conscious of her appearance.
“Yes.” She fought the urge to run a hand down her hair in order to smooth the errant strands she knew must be sticking out from her head. The smoke from the fire had irritated her eyes, so she’d put on her glasses instead of her contacts and now felt as if she were staring out from behind a thick wall of glass.
“I’m Michael Knight, but folks call me “Mac.” I’ll be your pilot.” His outstretched hand caught her attention and she realized that she’d been gaping at him.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She took his hand and felt the warm, rough texture of it against her skin. His grip was firm and solid, giving her the impression of controlled strength. This was a man who could handle any situation and remain unfazed.
“We have a long flight ahead of us,” he said, releasing her hand so he could glance at his wristwatch. “You understand that we’ll have to fly to Brasilia first, since we’re not technically a government aircraft. That adds about eight hours to our flight time, plus a short layover to take care of the administrative details.”
She nodded, knowing that the unavoidable delays still had her arriving at the research facility long before she’d have been able to through standard commercial means.
“Fine, then let me check the flight plan once more and then we’ll be on our way.” He didn’t even wait for her response, but turned and walked behind the counter where he flipped through several sheets of paper.
At that moment, Sandra appeared, moving immediately to his side. “There you are.”
“Hey, Babycakes.” For the first time since he’d walked into the room, Mac smiled, causing Lanie’s breath to catch. He was gorgeous and Lanie wondered about the nature of his relationship with Babycakes. Were they married? Sleeping together? Just really close friends? The speculation cast her own solitary life into sharp relief.
“Time to go.”
Mac’s announcement sent a spurt of adrenaline shooting through her and she watched as he leaned down to give Sandra a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Be good while I’m gone.”
“That’s no fun.” Sandra smiled as she returned his hug, but then her tone grew serious when she added, “Be careful, okay?”
“You know me.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Mac chuckled as he released her and crossed to the door, which he held open for Lanie to walk through. Outside, he stopped to put on his sunglasses and then glanced at the duffle bag in her hand.
“Where’s the rest of your luggage?”
“This is it.”
“Good.”
His response was curt, delivered in a cool, distant tone that contradicted the warm laugh that he’d just given Babycakes. Lanie tried to judge his expression, but couldn’t see past the image of her own pale, unkempt face reflected in his mirrored lenses. Once again, Lanie was reminded of a predator, studying its prey and when he moved toward her, she couldn’t stop herself from taking a quick step back. His expression changed to one of obvious irritation and she felt like a fool when all he did was take her bag.
“Follow me. Plane’s over here.” He walked off, seemingly unconcerned whether she trailed after him or not.
Already nervous, she refused to allow this man to intimidate her further. Hurrying so she could fall into step beside him, she tried to ease the situation with conversation.
“Admiral Winslow speaks very highly of you.”
A grunt was his only response. Undaunted, she tried again.
“Have you known him long?”
He glanced at her, his look telling her that he suffered her questions only because he had no other choice. “Ten years.”
“Were you in the Navy?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not now.”
“Correct.”
Lanie sighed. She wasn’t one of those people who could make conversation easily and his lack of cooperation was frustrating.
“I’m a librarian.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. It made no sense; a random comment born of desperation and she prayed that he ignored it.
“Really?” His tone revealed his complete lack of interest.
Up ahead, another fifty yards, stood the small white jet she’d spotted from the building. Seeing it up close, it still looked tiny and another shiver ran down her spine.
“How long have you been flying private charters?”
“A year.”
One year? Lanie almost stumbled. Did she really want to fly to a foreign country with a man who’d been flying for only one year? “How long have you been a pilot?” That was maybe the better question, she hoped.
“Ten years.”
She sighed with relief as they reached the plane and she stopped beside it, waiting for him to open the hatch.
“Yo, keep moving.”
Lanie jerked to her left, to see Mac staring at her from behind the plane.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, keep moving. We don’t have time to waste sight-seeing.”
Confused, she waved a hand toward the plane. “But isn’t this--”
“Our plane?” He gave a short laugh. “Hell, no. I’m not flying a Falcon 2000 into that part of the Amazon.” He leaned back and pointed to something she couldn’t see, hidden on the other side. “That’s what we’re flying.”
With a feeling of dread, Lanie moved to the end of the small white jet and looked beyond it. She turned to stare at Mac in absolute horror and started shaking her head. “Oh, no, no, no. I am not getting into that...that...what is it, anyway?”
“It’s a plane – let’s go.”
She continued to stare. “It’s a rotted out tin can with wings – correction, one wing and a stump. Surely you don’t expect me to ride in that? I mean, I can’t. I won’t.”
“Can and will.” He put a hand behind her back and gave her a gentle shove. “My instructions from Admiral Winslow are to get you to Taribu with all due haste. I believe those were your orders to him, were they not?” He glanced at her, but didn’t wait for an answer as his hand continued to propel her forward.
“The only people flying into Taribu are drug dealers, DEA and the poor souls trying to make an honest living transporting livestock and workers back and forth between the larger cities.”
They were at the plane now and Lanie saw that it truly was a rusted out, beat up old plane. Mac opened the hatch and threw in her bag before turning back to her. “Personally, I don’t want the DEA thinking we’re drug dealers or the drug dealers thinking we’re DEA. So we’ll go in looking like the poor souls who have to haul livestock.” He waved a hand at the plane and gave her a smile, the first he’d directed her way, and it had a decidedly evil bent to it.
“All aboard.”
Lanie stepped forward as he jumped on board and saw that the inside looked only slightly safer than the outside. When she felt his gaze on her, she tipped her head back, blocking the sun with her hand and gave him a weak smile.
“I’m not going.”
“You’re afraid of flying,” he accused her.
“Even if I was, I have serious doubts that this thing will actually attain an altitude high enough to constitute flying,” she retorted. “But if it does, I assure you, it’s not the flying I’m afraid of – it’s mechanical failure and, possibly, pilot error.”
This time his laugh sounded more genuine. “This is no time to be faint of heart. Man up, Weber. Time’s a wasting.”
Man up? She didn’t know what she hated more - his macho attitude or his obviously low opinion of her. Deciding it was the latter, she gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and grabbed the sides of the open hatch to haul herself up.
Once inside, Lanie verified that it was as bad as she’d feared. Unbidden, her thoughts conjured the image of the plane doing a nosedive through the air, engines sputtering erratically and smoke billowing forth. “This thing is a death trap,” she muttered, “and we’re both going to die before we even make it out of Texas.”
“Nice, positive attitude,” Mac chided, suddenly appearing from out of a cubbyhole near the back of the plane. “Here, drink this. It’ll calm your nerves.”
“What is it?” She stared at the shot glass full of light amber liquid.
“Tequila.”
Lanie stared at it for a long time, silently debating the merits of jumping off and running away versus staying on board. An image of her father’s face came to mind and she sighed. There really wasn’t a choice. Given that, maybe a little something to help her relax was a good idea. “Please tell me that you’re not also planning to seek courage at the bottom of a shot glass, or ten?”
He gave her another one of those grins that made her think the joke was on her. “Not this trip.”
Though she wasn’t sure she trusted him, she didn’t think he was the kind to jeopardize his job or the lives of his clients by drinking. Besides, Uncle Charles had recommended him. She accepted the glass and lifted it to her lips. The familiar tangy-sweet smell of the alcohol tickled her nose. Bracing herself, she threw back the contents and felt the burn all the way down to her stomach. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked several times to clear them. As the cabin swam back into focus, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe two shots would be better than one. Reluctantly, she dismissed the idea and handed back the glass.
“You can sit up front, in the co-pilot’s seat. Just don’t touch anything.” He pointed her in the direction of the cockpit, which, despite her fear, she found fascinating. She liked all the gauges and buttons, though she had no clue what any of them did. Plus, the view out the front window beat staring out the small side opening hands down.
“Sit here and let me help you with the straps.”
She slid into the co-pilot’s chair and watched those tan, masculine hands pull the straps across her front. When the back of his hand brushed against her breast, she froze, trying to hide her body’s immediate reaction, unsure whether he’d done it on purpose or by accident. She finally decided the contact had been unintentional because even though her pulse was racing in response to it, he seemed not to have noticed at all.
After she was buckled in, he closed the plane’s door and did whatever needed to be done in the back before they could take off. As she waited for him to return, Lanie felt a warm lassitude steal over her muscles and the prospect of the upcoming flight grew less threatening.
When Mac finally joined her in the cockpit, she found herself actually smiling at him. More amazing was the smile he gave her in return. He really was rather breathtaking when he did that, she thought again, her body growing lighter and her worries vanishing into thin air.
“Well, I think we’re just about ready.” Mac’s voice floated to her as if from far away and she tried to focus on it, but it proved to be impossible. It occurred to her that one shot of tequila had never affected her like this before and that something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Now her head felt too heavy to hold up, so she let it fall back against the seat. It took every bit of her will-power to look to the side where Mac’s face wavered unsteadily.
“Wha...?” Her mouth refused to ask the question her mind had no trouble screaming. What did you do to me?
Then there was only darkness.
Long hours later, Mac guided the plane across the tiny airfield in the northern Amazon of South America. The facility to which he and his passenger were headed was the headquarters for a zoological research project studying the indigenous wildlife of the area. The project was being conducted by one of the larger State-side universities, though Mac didn’t know which one, specifically. It didn’t matter. The whole thing was a front for the U.S. military, giving them an excuse to have a covert presence in the Amazon. The sizeable fee paid to key members of the Brazilian government insured that the “university researchers” were left alone and everyone seemed to like it that way.
Mac wasn’t sure what type of research was really being done at the remote location. That information was classified and he was no longer “in the know.” Still, there was no reason to believe that Weber’s and Burton’s deaths were anything more than they appeared – the result of a wild animal attack. Except, of course, that it seemed unusually convenient that Burton should die now of all times and Mac wasn’t the only one to think so. As soon as someone at the research facility had contacted Admiral Winslow with news of the deaths, the admiral had phoned Mac and the two had immediately begun making plans. It was imperative that Mac see the body of Lance Burton for himself. It was the only way they could be sure the man was truly dead.
Shutting down the plane’s engines, Mac glanced at his client, amazed and grateful that she’d stayed unconscious for so long. He’d known the moment he saw her that she wouldn’t make the trip without a little help - she was just that kind – so he’d slipped a couple of pain pills into her tequila. He knew the white coloring of the Styrofoam cup would mask any particles of the pills that hadn’t fully dissolved. He needed to get to that research compound.
Still, he was a little surprised at how long she’d been asleep. He’d been shooting for “relaxed” not “total unconsciousness.” For the fourth time, he checked her pulse, worried that he’d grossly underestimated the effects of two pain pills administered with alcohol. Just because they had little effect on him when he took them for the pain in his leg, didn’t mean they would affect her the same way. Once again, he found her pulse was strong and steady; she’d live.
He couldn’t put off waking her any longer; it was time to face the music. Pulling a tissue from the nearest dispenser, he wiped away the drool at the corner of her mouth, trying to give back some of the dignity he’d stolen. She was a mousy little thing, he thought, glancing at the coke-bottle glasses sitting askew on her nose.
His eyes fell to the steady rise and fall of her chest and he felt his body tighten as he remembered the feel of his hand brushing against the full treasure hidden beneath her oversized shirt. Touching her had been an accident, but not one he could bring himself to regret, although he was surprised that his body reacted so quickly. She wasn’t exactly his type.
Leaving his chair, he walked to the galley and took a bottle of water from the fridge. He moistened a small towel and then returned to his charge. She hadn’t moved.
Come on, Mac, he thought. Stop stalling. Heaving a sigh, he leaned over and jostled her arm. “Ms. Weber? Lanie? It’s time to wake up.” There was no response. He tried again, shaking her harder, but still nothing. Reluctantly, he laid the cool, damp cloth across her forehead and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as her eyes snapped open.
She looked at him, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear her vision. Then she looked around the cockpit and when her gaze returned to his, he saw that her eyes were still dilated, but more alert.
“I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.” She pushed herself up to sit straighter in the seat. A hand strayed to her head to massage her temples. “Just give me a second and then we can leave.”
Mac ignored the quick stab of guilt. “We’re already there. You slept through the entire flight.”
“We’re in Brasilia?”
“No. Taribu.”
“Already?” She raised her arm and he saw her try to focus on the watch face. “I don’t understand.” She glanced around, as if the answer to the mystery lay somewhere nearby. “I knew I was tired, but...” She broke off as she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
He didn’t like the greenish cast to her complexion. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t feel very good,” she mumbled.
“Not much of a drinker?”
She started to shake her head, but stopped suddenly, as if the motion made things worse. “Not on an empty stomach. Or maybe I’m coming down with something.”
Mac inwardly cringed. It didn’t bode well for the six-hour drive through the jungle that lay ahead of them.
“Rest here while I get our stuff together.” He walked back to the plane’s small galley and scrounged through the pantry until he found crackers and a plastic bag. Going back to the cockpit, he held them out to her.
“I thought you might want these.”
When he spoke, one eyelid lifted slightly so she could see what he offered. She raised a hand to take both from him. “Thanks.”
Trying to ignore how weak she sounded, Mac looked out the cockpit window. They’d flown all night and the sun wasn’t even a promise on the horizon. In another couple of hours, though, it would be high in the sky and hot as hell.
He looked back down at her and saw that she hadn’t moved. “Look, I need to go across the way to get our jeep and take care of the paperwork. Will you be okay here? By yourself?”
“As long as I’m not moving, I’m fine.”
Yeah, great, he thought, thinking of the dirt road they’d be bouncing along shortly. Man up, Knight. You picked the song, now it’s time to dance to the tune.
“The head, uh-sorry, bathroom is right behind the cockpit, if you need it. I suggest you try to use it before we leave. We still have a long trip ahead of us.”
He opened the hatch and stepped out. The stifling humidity instantly closed around him as he made his way across the darkened airfield to the main building ahead, nodding to the U.S. soldiers he saw along the way.
Fifteen minutes later, he’d secured the jeep and had their respective bags loaded. Ten more minutes and he’d managed to get the librarian from the cockpit chair into the passenger seat of the jeep.
“This might get a little rough.” Understatement of the year. He debated on whether or not to tell her about the muddy, rutted trail they had to drive on, or the bug-infested rainforest through which they would travel.
No. Some things did not get better with anticipation. “Hang on.”
He started the engine and, ignoring the sense of urgency gnawing at him, kept to a moderately slow pace as he drove, doing what he could to avoid the deepest ruts. Despite his best efforts, it wasn’t long before she hollered at him to stop.
Jumping from the vehicle as soon as it was safe to do so, she ran a few feet into the woods, where Mac saw her bend over. Seconds later, her body convulsed and he knew she was throwing up. Heaving a sigh, he climbed out of the jeep, pulled a clean rag from his gear and used some of the water from his canteen to wet it. Then he crossed to where she was hunched over and, standing behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed his other hand against her forehead until she was finished. Then he handed her the wet cloth to wipe her face.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding humiliated as they walked back to the jeep.
“Don’t worry about it. Here.” He gave her the canteen to rinse out her mouth and take a drink.
When she was done, she wiped the mouth of the canteen off with her shirt and handed it back to him. He stood beside her until she was settled in her seat, then stowed the canteen in the back.
“You look better,” he told her as he climbed behind the wheel and started the jeep. “Some of the color is back in your face.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve never had just one shot of anything kick my butt so bad before.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “What was in that tequila anyway?”
He knew the second she put it all together. Her posture grew rigid as she stared at him accusingly.
“You did – you put something in the tequila. What? Damn it, what did you give me?”
“A pain pill, that’s all. It shouldn’t have done more than relax you.”
“Based on what logic did you think that a pain pill mixed with alcohol would only relax me? You’re lucky it didn’t kill me. No wonder I feel so lousy.”
“It was only half a pill and you’re a big woman, I figured you had the body weight to handle it.” He glanced at her and found her gaping at him. “What?”
“You’re not scoring any points here, pal.”
He thought back to his last comment and sighed. “I didn’t mean that you were fat; I only meant you weren’t petite.”
She put a hand to her head as if it ached. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to explain that part of it, okay? Diplomacy isn’t your strong suit. Just tell me why you did it. I mean, we were already scheduled to leave, so why knock me out, unless...” He saw her look around and then back at him. “We are in Taribu, aren’t we? Or did you take me someplace else?”
“No, we’re in Taribu. And the reason I did it is because we didn’t have time to wait for you to find the courage to make the flight and I couldn’t take the chance that you’d back out. So I drugged you. Sue me.”
“Yeah? Well, I just might do that.”
They drove in silence for another two hours before she had to stop by the side of the road again. This time, when they were both back in the jeep, she sat up straighter in the seat, as if she felt better.
“I am sorry that I made you so sick,” he finally offered.
She turned to study his face and he hoped she saw the sincerity he felt. After a moment, she nodded. “I’ll consider forgiving you if you can produce a mint or something.”
He smiled, reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. “How’s this?”
Her eyes lit up as she took it from him. “It’s a start. Thanks.” She took a stick and handed the rest back to him. He took a piece for himself before putting it away and they drove in silence as the sun rose and light began to filter through the canopy of tree limbs overhead.
“I hate flying.”
Her comment seemed to come out of thin air and when Mac glanced at her, he thought she looked very vulnerable sitting there, her eyes looking unusually large behind the thick glasses and wisps of light brown hair escaping from the band designed to secure them, making a halo around her head. She gave him a slight smile. “I don’t like your methods, but I have to admit, that was one of the easiest flights I’ve ever taken.” She faced forward again, watching the road in front of them. “Don’t do it again.”
“Okay.”
After that, the road grew rougher and it became too hard to shout over the rumble of the jeep as it bounced along. Occasionally, the haunting cries of various birds and animals hidden within the jungle could be heard. Eventually, tired from being jostled about, they stopped to stretch their legs and Mac broke out the sandwiches he’d brought along. He was relieved to see that Lanie felt well enough to eat.
Afterwards, they took opposite sides of the road to answer nature’s call and Mac, who had expected Lanie to balk, was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. The rest of the trip was spent in silence or the occasional exchange of polite chit-chat.
As Mac feared, the trip took much longer than six hours and it was pushing mid-afternoon when he spotted the road that would lead them to the compound. Turning, they followed it for several more minutes until suddenly the rain forest opened up and they found themselves in a huge clearing. Ahead was the parking lot and to the right was a small white stone building with tinted front windows. The modern building looked out of place in the middle of the Amazon jungle.
The parking lot was empty, except for a single, army-green utility truck parked off to one side.
“Why don’t you go in and let them know we’re here,” Mac said as he pulled into a parking spot. “I’ll get our bags and be right behind you.”
He grabbed his Colt .45 from under the seat and climbed out. Moving around to the back where the bags were stowed, he glanced up and saw Lanie making her way up the front walk. He opened his pack, checked the gun to make sure the safety was on and was about to place it in the bag when he was startled by the sound of the front door of the building crashing open. Whipping his head up, he saw Lanie running out, her face deathly white.
Forgetting about the bags, he raced to her side. “What’s the matter?”
She gripped his arms, staring up at him with an expression that sent alarms tripping throughout his body. “Inside...”
Still holding his gun, he released the safety. Then he shoved the jeep keys into her hand. “Go to the jeep.”
Mac wasn’t sure what type of trouble to expect, but he wanted her out of the way when it started.
Rushing to the door, he bent his head close to listen. All was quiet. Gripping the handle, he slowly eased it open and, making hardly a sound, he slipped inside.
The absolute silence was the first thing he noticed. As quiet as the proverbial tomb, he thought as he looked about. He stood inside a small foyer, facing a security desk that was absent a guard. Beyond that was a set of double-doors leading to the rest of the building.
Mac crept forward, constantly scanning the area for what had frightened Lanie. After about four steps, he found it.
Behind the desk, strewn across the floor like forgotten rag dolls, were the bodies of the missing security guard and four other men. Their unnatural gray pallor and sightless, staring eyes left no doubt that all five were dead.
A small noise behind him had Mac whipping around to confront the source, weapon leveled and ready. Lanie stood right inside the door, her eyes wide and staring at the muzzle pointed at her.
Before he could gesture for her to return to the jeep, she recovered and moved quickly toward him. When she reached his side, she paused at the sight of the bodies.
“Who --”
He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. Though he doubted it; whatever, or whomever, had killed these men might still be lurking about the compound. The last thing he wanted to do was announce their presence – at least, no more so than the door crashing open already had, he thought ruefully.
Spotting the guard’s weapon lying nearby, Mac picked it up. Checking to see if it was loaded and ready to fire, he considered giving the weapon to Lanie and then thought better of it. It would be his luck to have her accidentally shoot him in the back.
He clicked the safety on and tucked the weapon into the waistband of his pants, then gestured for her to follow him. Reaching the double doors, he leaned his head close, once again listening for sounds from the other side.
Hearing none, he pushed one of the doors open a crack and peered through. Nothing. Opening it further, he quickly stepped through, gun ready and body tensed for action.
The hallway appeared empty. He moved forward, the sound of Lanie’s breathing echoing in the silence. When he reached the first door, he motioned for her to stand beside him against the wall as he reached for the handle and slowly turned it. Swinging the door inward, he again braced for an attack. Again, nothing happened. Carefully, he stepped into the doorway and then slowly, into the room. It was someone’s office, neat, undisturbed – and empty.
Back in the hallway, they moved to the next door and repeated the process, slowly working their way through the entire building. By the end of their search, they’d located the security office, the kitchen, offices and residence rooms. All looked normal and undisturbed.
The last room, the medical lab, was a different story.
“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Knight?”
Lanie turned at the sound of Mac’s muttered question, having asked herself a similar one only moments before. “What do you think happened?”
“I have no idea and that’s the God’s honest truth.” He shook his head as he looked around.
She wondered if he saw it the way she did - metal gurneys knocked askew and medical instruments scattered across the floor. In Lanie’s imagination, the attackers had heedlessly shoved things aside in their pursuit of the four men, whose bodies now rested crumpled against the far wall, as if, after being murdered, they’d been carelessly tossed there and forgotten, like so many bones discarded after a meal.
Such a violent end to life, Lanie thought, and yet the question of how, exactly, they had died remained a mystery to her. For all the show of violence, there was very little blood and no obvious wounds.
Still struggling to make sense of it all, she saw Mac reach into his shirt pocket and pull out a phone. As he punched in a number, he turned to her, looking worried. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, finding his concern surprising, yet touching, until it occurred to her that he was probably worried about her falling apart and adding to his problems. He had no way of knowing that she was a trained EMT and had seen far worse than this at some of the traffic accidents she’d attended. It was the unexpected shock of finding the bodies and the fear that the murderer lurked inside that sent her running from the building initially.
“Admiral, this is Knight.” She heard Mac say moments later. “We’ve got a problem.”
Lanie walked over to the body lying closest to her and examined it as she listened to Mac describe what had happened.
“No,” she heard him say after a pause. “Heading back through the jungle at this hour would be unwise. We’ll stay here, just get that team to us ASAP.” She glanced up and saw him looking at her. “She’s fine.” He ended the call and put his phone away.
“Was that Charles?”
He nodded. “He’s sending out a team.”
“Good. I hope they get here soon.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to chase away the goose bumps.
“Even if they leave now, they won’t get here until morning. We’re on our own.” He looked around the room, shaking his head. “What the hell kind of research were they doing out here, anyway? Biochemical? Weapons?”
“Maybe biochemical, but I don’t think so,” she sighed. “I think it was cryptozoological.”
His brows furrowed as he shot her a curious look. “Come again?”
She wondered how best to explain. “Cryptozoology. Literally translated, it’s the study of hidden animals. You’re probably more familiar with it in the context of searching for evidence of Big Foot or the Loch Ness monster.”
As expected, his expression turned to one of total disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, it’s a legitimate field of research and happens to be my father’s area of expertise. As big as this world is, there’s no way that man has discovered and documented all the life forms that live here. As civilization spreads out and encroaches on these animals’ space, they have no where to go – and we suddenly have sightings.”
“You believe in all that shit?”
She glared at him. “Let’s just say that over the years, traveling with my dad, I’ve seen stuff that’s hard to explain any other way.”
He stared at her for a moment, as if considering whether she was a harmless, but crazy, academic – or just plain certifiable. “So you’re telling me that Big Foot killed these men?” he scoffed.
“No. To my knowledge, and admittedly I’m no expert, Big Foot doesn’t drink blood.”
Now she had his attention. “What do you mean?”
“Come look.” Squatting beside the body closest to her, she waved her hand up and down it. “There aren’t any bullet holes or stab wounds. It’s unlikely that poison was used. The only evidence I can find of foul play are these.” She gently pushed the head to the side, exposing the side of the neck. Dried blood was smeared across it, but two puncture wounds were clearly visible. Each hole was the size of the end of a Q-tip and they were spaced a little over an inch apart.
“Go on,” Mac said, coming to squat beside her.
“Okay. Well, notice the pallor and dryness of the skin. The grayish cast denotes a lack of blood. Now, I figure they’ve been dead for several hours. If that’s true, then we should see signs of lividity in the lowest levels of the body – in this case, the man’s right side, since that’s how he’s laying. But look here.” She pulled up the man’s shirt. “It’s the same gray color – there wasn’t enough blood left to pool and discolor the skin.”
At her declaration, their eyes met and Lanie wondered what thoughts raced through his head.
“Who would take the time to do something like this?” he asked.
“I guess it could have been some type of wild animal,” she offered.
“No, it was human.” He pointed to a bloody stain on the man’s shoulder where Lanie could barely make out the imprint of a hand – a human hand.
“Well, I know this sounds far-fetched, but there might be one other explanation...”
“What?”
She didn’t say anything, her gaze and attention focused on the two puncture marks on the victim’s neck.
“Oh, hell, no. Don’t even say--”
“Vampires.”
He swung his head away from her, uttering a soft curse under his breath before slapping his hands against his legs and pushing himself to a standing position. “You know? For about three minutes there, I actually thought you had a brain cell.”
Lanie knew it sounded crazy and wished she could laugh it off and tell him that she was kidding, but too many years with her father kept her silent.
“I don’t believe any of that crap.” Mac walked to the opposite side of the room, clearly agitated. He stopped at the doorway long enough to look back at her. “It’ll be dark soon. I’m going to check the outside of the compound while I can still see.”
He left the lab and she hurried to follow, trailing after him to the small security office they’d discovered earlier. She stood silently by the door as he systematically searched each of the cabinets. From the fourth, he extracted a handheld search lamp that, when switched on, was so bright, Lanie had to shield her eyes from the nearly blinding light.
Apparently satisfied, he shut it off, left the office and walked to the front of the building, Lanie following behind him. As they passed the security desk, she tried to ignore the bodies.
“I want you to wait in here,” Mac said, heading for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“No, I don’t want to stay by myself.”
“I don’t care. You’ll be safer inside.”
She jerked her head toward the bodies. “Like they were? No, thanks, I’m going with you.”
He glared at her. “Be reasonable. We’ve searched the entire building. There’s no danger inside, but there may still be something outside. If I run into trouble, the last thing I need to worry about is keeping your butt safe.”
“You worry about your butt and I’ll worry about mine.”
He pointed a finger at her, his expression stern and unyielding. “Stay here.”
She pushed her glasses up her nose with the tip of her index finger as she stared at him, unfazed. “Do you find that works with most people? Because I’m not buying it.”
His expression grew outright lethal and despite her bravado, she found herself a little intimidated. “Fine, I won’t go with you,” she finally huffed.
“Very sensible of you,” Mac acknowledged, pulling the guard’s gun from his waistband and handing it to her. “Do you know how to use this?”
“I think I can grasp the basic concept – you point and pull the trigger, right?”
She peered down the weapon’s sights at an imaginary target, perilously close to where Mac stood, her aim not quite steady as her arm wavered in the air. Mac swore again as he pressed her arm downward until the weapon was pointed at the floor. Then gently, but firmly, he pulled it from her hand, checked the safety and shoved it back into the front of his pants.
“On second thought, it might be better if I was the only one who actually carried a gun.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself, but then I’m going with you.”
They left the building and Mac paused on the sidewalk outside. Lanie knew he was listening for anything that might sound out of the ordinary. With anyone else, she might have scoffed at the action. After all, they weren’t in familiar territory – how would they know what sounded normal and what didn’t?
But Mac was different. More capable was the description that came to mind. The way he’d handled the situation inside, had coped with finding all the bodies and yet remained calm, cool and collected – it made her wonder what he’d done and seen in the Navy.
When he started walking, she was struck by his skills. He moved without a sound, making her own attempts at stealth sound loud and jarring by contrast.
He led them along the front, hugging the wall until they’d traveled the length of it, at which point he stopped and cautiously peered around the next corner. Apparently seeing nothing of concern, he gestured for her to follow as he continued around to the side.
Here they found a four-foot wide stretch of ground, cleared of trees, with patches of undergrowth insidiously creeping back. It was as if the rain forest, looming dark and silent beyond the clearing, was trying to reclaim its own. Lanie kept a wary eye open, expecting something to jump out at them at any moment.
When they reached the back of the building, Mac again guided them close to the wall so he could see around the corner. When he gave the all clear, they proceeded to the backyard.
Like the side, this area had been cleared of trees and brush, but a huge metal cage, like one would find at the zoo, stood in the very middle.
There appeared to be something inside, but with the growing shadows of dusk, it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. Moving closer, Lanie made out what looked like the statue of a gargoyle.
Unfamiliar with the different cultural beliefs of the South Americans, she was unsure if the statue was religious or decorative, but she was intrigued with its appearance. It sat hunched on large hind legs like a large cat. Both hind and front legs ended in three-toed claws and a row of sharp fins ran down its head and back. A canine-like muzzle protruded from its round face, with two three-inch fangs extending from its upper jaw. The oval eyes appeared too large for its head and gave the statue an almost demonic, alien appearance.
As the sun sank further in the sky, shadows danced across the cage, making the statue appear almost alive. Intrigued, Lanie tried the handle of the cage.
“Why would they keep a statue locked in a cage,” she mused, more to herself than to Mac. “I want to take a closer look.” She searched for a way to unlock the door.
“Look at it tomorrow, when the light is better,” Mac ordered. “We still have half the grounds to search.”
She didn’t even glance at him as she dragged her foot across the grass, feeling for a dropped key or some hidden mechanism. “Those men have been dead a while. Whatever killed them is gone or we’d be dead now, too.” She paused when her toe hit something. Bending down, she moved the grass aside and found a small metal box. Picking it up, she saw an on/off switch. “I found it.”
“Wait.” Mac hollered at her, but it was too late. She’d already flipped the lever. The sound of a bolt shooting back echoed ominously in the silence, causing the hairs on the back of Lanie’s neck to prickle. She tensed, expecting something to spring out of the cage at them. Beside her, Mac stood with his gun ready.
Time seemed to stop and in the distance, a bird cawed while a gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the surrounding trees, creating a gentle rustling sound.
Lanie gave Mac a withering look for scaring her and moved past him to the cage’s entrance where she hesitated only a moment before continuing on.
The statue was fascinating. The masonry work was so detailed and fine that it gave the piece a life-like appearance. Intrigued, Lanie pressed a finger against it and found the rough surface cool to the touch.
“It’s amazing,” she breathed when Mac came to stand by her side.
“Yeah. Can we go?”
Her gaze traveled to the statue’s face, mesmerized by the craftsmanship that was so exquisite that she could practically see the eyes glowing red in the darkness and drops of moisture running down the long, deadly fangs.
Then the eyes blinked.